The cool forest air washed over me as I stepped beneath the crimson canopy. "Ahhhh, that feels better," I sighed in relief.
Then the root caught my foot.
"Shit!" I crashed to the ground, barely catching myself. "Fucking tree roots." I kicked the offending root before pushing myself up, my throat burning with thirst.
"Alright, whatever god's listening," I rasped, voice cracking, "just give me a damn break."
A blue screen flashed before my eyes:
[NEW QUEST: FIND WATER]
I jerked back. "What the hell?" I reached out, but my hand passed right through the floating text. "Am I in some kind of video game? Did I get isekai'd?"
Tentatively, I said, "Menu."
The display changed:
[FELIX SHAW]
STR: 11
AGI: 12
CON: 10
LCK: 8
[DEBUFFS]
• Dehydration: -50% Stamina & Movement Speed
"Of course I'm dehydrated," I grumbled at the screen.
"Skills," I tried. The text shifted:
[SKILLS]
Class-locked until Level 15
"So, there's levels and classes too, huh. Level?"
The menu reappeared with:
[LEVEL 1] at the bottom.
"Real helpful," I muttered.
"Okay then, oh magical screen," I said, oozing sarcasm, "how exactly do I level up?"
Nothing.
Right. If this worked like any RPG I'd ever played... "I get XP by killing things." The thought sent an unpleasant chill down my spine.
"Quest."
The original prompt returned:
[FIND WATER]
• Reward: Waterskin + 10 XP
As the screen disappeared, I exhaled sharply. "Guess I'm finding water then."
I turned deeper into the crimson forest, my boots crunching on strange black leaves. Somewhere in the distance, something screeched - a sound that set my teeth on edge. But a waterskin meant I could carry more when I found it. That was worth moving toward whatever made that horrible noise.
The forest pressed in around me, its towering black trunks leaning closer with every staggering step I took. My tongue had swollen to a dry lump in my mouth, my lips cracking like the parched earth beneath my running shoes. Each breath scraped through my throat like sandpaper, the air thick with the coppery scent of those damned crimson leaves overhead.
I'd stopped sweating hours ago - a bad sign I remembered from that desert survival documentary Bella had made me watch. My vision swam at the edges, the world tilting dangerously with every movement. The only thing keeping me upright was the distant roar of... something. Water, I prayed. Please let it be water.
My knees gave out without warning. I crashed face-first into cool, blessed mud, the impact jolting through my battered body. The earthy scent flooded my senses - damp and rich and alive. Some distant, rational part of my brain registered that mud meant water nearby, but my body was already moving, crawling forward with the last of my strength.
The stream appeared like a mirage - clear water rushing over smooth black stones, so beautiful it hurt. I didn't think, didn't care about purification or safety. I plunged my entire head beneath the surface, the shock of cold nearly stopping my heart. Water flooded into my mouth, my nose, pouring down my throat in greedy gulps. I drank until my lungs screamed for air, until my stomach ached with the sudden weight of it.
When I finally surfaced, gasping and dripping, I rolled onto my back in the mud, staring up at the fractured red sky through the canopy. The relief was so profound I nearly wept.
Then - thump. A heavy leather waterskin landed square on my chest.
For a long moment, I just lay there, blinking at it. Then the numbers appeared, floating across my vision like afterimages from staring at the sun: +10.
A hoarse laugh bubbled up from my waterlogged lungs. "Fucken perfect," I croaked to no one in particular. The forest didn't answer. The stream just kept rushing past, indifferent to my little drama.
I ran a trembling hand over the waterskin's worn surface. The leather was supple, the stitching precise. Someone had made this. Someone had used this. The question was - where were they now?
Time lost all meaning as I lay there by the murmuring stream. The waterskin became a living thing in my hands - filling, drinking, refilling in a rhythm as old as thirst itself. My body drank like a dying plant after rain, each gulp sending tremors through my exhausted limbs. The water tasted of wet stone and something faintly metallic, but I didn't care. For the first time since waking in this nightmare, I didn't feel like I was slowly turning to dust.
As my mind cleared, I studied the stream's flow. Upstream meant higher ground. Maybe cleaner water. Maybe shelter. The alternative was wandering aimlessly through this crimson maze until something found me.
I pushed myself up, my muscles protesting like rusted hinges. That's when I heard it - the forest holding its breath. No birds. No insects. Just the stream's endless chatter and... something else. A dry rustle that didn't match the wind (there was no wind). The faintest crunch of displaced pebbles.
My skin prickled. I'd gone this long without encountering whatever called this place home. Part of me wanted to believe I'd gotten lucky. The rest knew better.
"Weapon," I muttered through cracked lips. "Need a weapon."
The spear idea died immediately. My survival knowledge began and ended with horror movie logic. But a club? Even an idiot could swing a stick.
The forest seemed to laugh at me. Every branch I grabbed crumbled like ancient bone. My frustration grew with each failed attempt, my breathing turning ragged. The fading light painted everything in long, grasping shadows. Night was coming. And I refused to be helpless when it arrived.
Then I saw it - a low-hanging branch on one of the black-barked trees, thick as my forearm. It took my shirt wrapped around a sharp rock and every ounce of strength I had left, but finally - SNAP. The branch came free with a sound like a gunshot in the silent forest.
I hefted my makeshift club. The weight felt good. Solid. Like maybe I stood a chance.
The sun had become a dull ember on the horizon when I found it - not a cave, but a depression in the earth where the roots of a massive tree formed a natural alcove. The ground was dry, the space just big enough to curl up in. Not safe. But safer.
"Better than nothing," I sighed, already imagining the relief of closing my eyes.
Before I could, a growl. From behind.